The Man in the Shadows
by TheManFromMudos
Summary: Jerome Yales is just a man like any other. He's been a DI in the police force for over 20 years, and now he's been assigned to a new case. Strange disappearances have been occurring in the area where Jerome lives, and he has to work out who's responsible. But, it isn't long before Jerome discovers that the culprit he's after isn't your average man...
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

'_Running. Always running, from IT. From fear. We cannot face what scares us most, what brings us almost to tears. So we run from it. How foolish are we, to run? But I did. I ran._

_What had I seen, to make me run? It gets dark so quickly out here, you see. A relaxing woodland walk soon develops into a flee for dear life. And all because of fear. It was odd, what I'd seen. Well, more than odd. If you'd seen it, you'd have run. It was death, Satan himself in physical form. Oh god, why? Why does it want me? I pray, if anybody should read this note, escape while you can. Escape NOW or it will come for you. No one should suffer through what I have. He… It… That face._

_It's close now. I can feel it. The constant ringing, make it stop. MAKE IT STOP! It's going to find me. Find me and kill me. I'm not safe anymore. It's too late for me now.'_

A.S

Chapter 1

The familiar sound of a boiling kettle broke the silence of the kitchen. It was followed by the sound of heavy footsteps, and the creak of an old, wooden door. A veiny, grey hand grasped at the kettle, and lifted it from it's stand. The hand then took the kettle to a plain, beige mug and poured the boiling liquid in. The mug was then lifted from the counter where it rested, leaving a rather annoying ring stain in it's place.

Jerome Yales was a middle–aged man, quite tall, with short, brown hair and dry, colourless lips. He lacked many distinguishing features, save for his unusually vibrant green eyes. Even the whites of them had an unnerving lime tint.

He sat down on his own, much as he had every day for many years past, and reached for the TV remote. He turned on his television set and changed it to the usual channel, TBT news. Trosking Broadcast Television was one of the few TV channels that Jerome liked. He'd always felt that the TBT news told everything as it was, no stretching the truth, no exaggeration. Also, he had a particular soft spot for their announcer, who sure enough greeted the audience as always.

"Good morning, and welcome to TBT news. On today's show: Syawliar and Swayrail Railways division announce that they will be disbanding the division's staff next year unless their deal with Ashbridge Co goes through. Troops overseas may finally be returning to Jarney as soon as next week after surrender from the opposition, following over 13 years of conflict. And local boy James Stoker disappeared missing last night, not three weeks after his father Alan was…"

It was here that Jerome changed the channel to something more… cheerful. He'd been at the Stoker household just last night, so he already new all too well what had happened.

He stood up and returned to the kitchen to poor away his coffee. Suddenly, he didn't feel so thirsty. Then it began. He started to feel slightly nauseas, and his skin had become even more grey and colourless than it was already. An icy chill washed over his entire body. He began to twitch, and his eyes lost their tint. Without hesitation, he collapsed to his knees and started to gasp for breath desperately. His windpipe was slowly closing up. He fumbled around madly in his pockets until he could not go on any more. Looking up, Jerome saw an ominous figure standing at the bottom of his garden. Then, he fell silent on the floor.

When he came round, Jerome was lying in his dressing gown on the kitchen floor. He had no memory of how he had gotten there, or what had happened at all since he had woken up that morning. He slowly rose to his feet, and went to his answering machine, which was bearing a new message. He hesitantly pressed the button to listen to the message.

"Yales! I don't know what you're playing at, but I've been trying to reach your mobile all morning. You'd better get over to the Stoker residence immediately, unless of course you want to be off the force."

With a great sigh, Jerome dragged himself upstairs to get changed for work. He really wanted nothing more to do with the Stoker case, but it was his job, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A short while later, Jerome was in his room, pulling his clothes on drearily. As he buttoned his white shirt, he glanced through the window of his bedroom. On the other side of the street stood a tall, bald man. Jerome thought long and hard, but he just couldn't recall where he'd last seen him. The man must have been facing in the opposite direction, as Jerome could not make out his face. He was wearing an awfully sharp looking dark suit, though, and as Jerome looked, the man walked away, without even turning his head. Jerome shrugged it off, and chuckled a little inside. "That's odd." He thought to himself. "That fellow had his suit on backwards."

Not five minutes after his… encounter, Jerome was racing across town to the scene of the Stoker disappearance. He was reluctant to even go to work that day, so to lighten the mood, he turned on his radio. Oddly enough, all he could hear was static. Every station, static. Being up in the hills, the town didn't exactly have very good signal on any day. But today, it seemed worse. The signal had never been this bad before. And what was more, through the static, Jerome could hear a faint voice. Actually, he didn't hear it, it was more… subliminal. But his brain had registered it subconsciously.

A few minutes later, Jerome had reached the other side of town. He was just a few streets away from the Stoker household when he heard another noise from the radio. It was the same static, as well as the voice he had failed to recognise before. Only this time, he could hear it. Quite clearly, in fact. It said:

"_You are never alone. He is ALWAYS watching."_

The same icy chill Jerome had felt this morning suddenly returned. He felt nauseas again, and his skin lost all colour. But this time, he was prepared. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out something which vaguely resembled a tablet. He placed it into his mouth and swallowed it quickly, before his windpipe had chance to swell. Regaining control almost instantly, he looked straight ahead. The Stoker household was barely thirty feet away, and directly in front of him. He braked furiously and slowed to a halt dead at the edge of the curb. A second more, and he could have plowed through the building.

Stepping out of his car, Jerome took a few sharp breaths and proceeded to the door of the house. Police tape covered the entire garden, and a small section of the woods behind the house. He tried the door, although it turned out to be locked.

"Yales. YALES! Where is he?" A short, round man stuck his head through the window of the house and turned to face Jerome. "DI Yales," he exclaimed, "where do you think you've been?"

"Sorry sir. Another attack." Jerome replied.

"Oh, I see." Said the short man. "Sorry to hear that. But anyway. You're still late. We've found this, come and take a look at it." He produced a piece of torn, weathered paper and showed it to Jerome. Jerome knew instantly what it was.

Looking at the piece of paper, Jerome was not surprised to find that it was a note. From someone called 'A.S'. The last couple of lines were perhaps the most intriguing, saying that he wasn't safe, and that it was too late for him.

"Well, what do you think?" yelled the short tempered police chief.

"I'm not sure, sir. But it was definitely written by Alan Stoker," Jerome replied. It seemed rather odd, though. Alan must clearly have gone insane before he wandered off into the woods. Judging by the wounds on his body, a mountain lion of some kind must have attacked him. But he hadn't been chased, and it certainly wasn't by 'Satan'. That was what made it all the more odd, though. Jerome had meet Alan in the past, and he had always been one of the most rational men you could have ever met. Why would he worry about such things as 'pure evil' in physical form?

Jerome looked around the rest of the house after reading the note. Since his father had disappeared, James Stoker had been looked after by his older sister. She didn't speak much, but she'd managed to give a statement. Something about Alan acting strangely every now and then recently. Having random panic attacks and saying that he'd seen 'it' again. But what was 'it'? More clues were needed to shed some light. There was also the statement that James had given the day before he vanished. Up until then, he'd been too upset to talk about his father's disappearance. Jerome thought back to what James had said.

'_Daddy said he was going to take a walk in the woods. I think he went to talk to that man again. I saw him about a month ago. It looked like he didn't have a face, but Daddy said it was just my imagination. After about an hour, Daddy still wasn't home, so Megan called the police. I don't know anything else.'_

This statement was outright creepy, and Jerome knew it perfectly well. A man without a face? He pictured the man in his head. For some reason, he imagined him being bald, and wearing a dark suit. Kind of like the man he'd seen wearing his suit backward that morning. Then it hit him. "It can't be," Jerome pondered aloud. "Can it?" The man he'd seen that morning, could it have been? It was. It was the same man that James had seen. The same faceless man. He would have to inform the chief.

"Faceless man?!" The chief exclaimed. Jerome was now trying his best to convince the chief after remembering what James had said. "A mere coincidence. Clearly, you were just tired when you saw this bald guy earlier, and James isn't exactly a reliable source. I mean, he's only 7 years old, for Christ's sake."

"But chief…" Jerome began.

"But nothing." The stubborn man said. "Look. Go home, Yales. Get some rest, and come back tomorrow. WITHOUT the crazy faceless guy theory."

The chief had clearly made up his mind. But as Jerome clambered back into his car to drive home, he wondered. Perhaps he was just clutching at straws.

Or perhaps not.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The following morning was quite a dull one. The sky was grey, the rain drizzled slowly, and no birds flew across the sky. Jerome awoke at his usual hour, and prepared for work as usual. He realised that the chief's words were probably right. He couldn't simply link two events together purely because of coincidence. Although, it still seemed quite odd to him. After all, it wasn't everyday that he saw a faceless man.

After going to the door to collect the daily newspaper, Jerome sat down and began to read. Naturally, the news on the troops returning to Jarney was still circulating, as was James Stoker's disappearance. Ashbridge Co had recently launched yet another division, the science division, in association with Zephyr Inc. Some singer he'd never heard of had announced early retirement, and there were various sports articles, but that was about it. So he put the newspaper down and set off to work.

Approaching the Stoker residence, Jerome hoped to himself that something would be found today. The sooner the case was cracked, the sooner he could wash his hands at this whole affair. However, he solemnly doubted that anything _would_ be found. Anyway, even if it was, it wouldn't really help much.

Looking out into the woods, Jerome realised that he had not seen many woodland animals at all lately, ever since Alan Stoker was found dead. Maybe the animals had simply been off put by the commotion of the incident. All the same, perhaps the woods would be worth searching more thoroughly for evidence. He would have to discuss it with the chief.

At the Stoker residence, Jerome was silent for most of the day. Around noon, he conversed with the chief about searching the woods in more depth. The chief seemed to agree, and at around 1:30, Jerome himself was chosen as one of the three people to go into the woods and investigate. Reluctantly, he did so, and now here he was, in the woods. Even at this time of the day, the woods were incredibly dark, and all three of the policemen were carrying torches. Jerome insisted that they all stayed together, in case of an attack. After all, the killer might still be out here.

About an hour later, Jerome was contemplating the idea that it really was _something,_ rather than _someone _that killed Alan Stoker. Maybe the darkness was just beginning to creep him out, but this train of thought was not new to him, and it kept repeating itself in the corner of his mind every now and then. The other two policemen scarcely spoke, and so the three men walked along in silence. This made the deep shade of the trees even more spine-chilling, and hardly helped the matter at all.

For several drudging hours, the three men walked on, and at last they gave up. There was no evidence at all to be found in these woods. They turned slowly to head back to the Stoker household and proceeded once more in complete silence. It was here that Jerome noticed the first odd thing, a small scrap of red patterned cloth on the ground beneath his feet. He lifted it up high, and realized suddenly that it was not red at all, but green. It was the bloodstains that made it appear red.

Jerome knew at once that this was an important piece of evidence, and ran to catch up with the other police officers. It was then that he noticed the second odd thing, which was that he was no longer in the woods at all. He was at the bank of a river, which he eventually recognised as the River Malder. He had been here before, although quite some time ago. But how had he got here? Was it even possible? As he puzzled things out in his head, Jerome noticed the third and final odd thing, and that was the hand on his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When most people are afraid, they generally do one of two things. They turn and run, or are frozen completely stiff. Now, Jerome decided to neither of these things at this point, although when he spoke to the man behind him, he was all too fearful to turn and face him.

"So, who are you then? The chief won't believe that it was you who killed Alan, and most likely his son, too. And he certainly refuses to believe that I've seen a faceless man before. So tell me," Jerome said hoarsely, turning slowly around to face the tall figure, "who are you?"

As Jerome stared in complete disbelief at the sight before him, he heard the voice of the chief in the distance, and a police constable began to shake him by the shoulder.

"DI Yales, sir? Are you alright?" But Jerome could not speak a word. There before him, was nothing. He looked around frantically. Where was the river? Where was the man? H-How? He wasn't, he… Jerome rushed to tell the chief about what had happened to him. He knew he wouldn't believe a word of it, but he should let him know all the same.

"Yales, I've had about enough of you babbling on about this 'faceless' man of yours," the chief bellowed once Jerome had explained the whole thing. "I mean look at you! Just half an hour ago, you thought you were talking to this supposedly faceless guy at the side of the River Malder, when according to the two constables you were with, you were just stood in the woods talking to yourself."

"Chief, you have to believe me…" Jerome tried to explain desperately.

"No Yales, I don't," he replied angrily. "Now, if I hear any more about this faceless guy, you're off the force. So go home."

Once again, Jerome had managed to make himself look like a madman, and once again, he'd been sent home because of it. Nevertheless, he was determined to find out who this faceless man was. He knew he had seen him before; he just couldn't put his finger on where. As he pulled up to his driveway, though, one thing was certain; he would find out.

Stepping inside, he rushed upstairs to his room, and brought back downstairs with him a large, dusty photo album. He sat down with a fresh mug of coffee, and opened the great binder. He was sure that not only had he seen this mysterious 'faceless' man this morning, but he recalled seeing him before, albeit without even taking notice.

Upon opening the album, the first thing he noticed was that several photographs had been torn to shreds, and left in a plastic wallet at the very front of the binder. Slightly miffed by this, he decided to continue deeper into the album. It was here that he noticed something else. On the first 'page' was a photograph of him as a newborn, being held in the arms of a nurse. Not much about the hospital ward was noticeable, other than the view through the window. And what a view it was. The rolling hills behind the town, the sleepy little houses, and… No. It couldn't be.

Jerome had to squint very carefully to see it clearly, but then again, why did he want to see it? Still, there in the background, in the hospital's barren car park, was a man. A tall man, in a dark suit. He was a bald man, with… with no facial features whatsoever. You will not be surprised to hear that once more, an icy chill washed over Jerome's body, pulling him down into the dark waters of unconsciousness.

Jerome had been out for a while when he regained consciousness. He recalled faintly hearing a voice in his head before he had collapsed. Whatever this thing was, it certainly didn't like Jerome. Still, the photo album was at least 5 inches thick, so Jerome had to get on.

Climbing up from the hard floor he'd fallen onto, Jerome noticed that the image of the man in the car park on the day he was born now featured a red circle, around the man, or thing, itself. There was a neat cross through the circle as well; much like a symbol that Jerome felt he'd seen before.

Turning the page, Jerome noticed that there was another red circle and cross on the next photograph. And sure enough, it circled _him_ again. Jerome was slightly unnerved by the fact that he could not remember drawing either of these circles, but still he pressed on. It was on the next photo that Jerome became nervous.

On this photo, Jerome had been about 27, and it had been taken on his first day at the police training academy. On it was him and three young men who had all been his friends at the time. There was another man on the photo, though, less than a foot behind them. And I don't think you need to be told who it was.

Jerome wanted to stop now. He couldn't bare to continue on. But he had to, possibly for the sake of his own life. And as he flicked through the photo album, on every single photograph of him was a circle with a cross, around that same man. Again, and again, and again, the man getting closer each time. Until Jerome reached the last page in the album. A photo of him taken at the end of last month, for 20 years good service in the police force. On this photo, the circle and the cross were larger than ever before. They were around _him_.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jerome almost dropped his coffee when he saw it. It seemed illogical. If the pattern was that the circle was always around that tall man, why had the last one been around him? Taken aback by what he'd just seen, Jerome decided to get some sleep. He went straight to bed without a wash, a cup of tea, or even watching his usual late night television. No, on this particular night, he went without hesitation. Now, he lay silently, hopelessly trying to get some sleep. But he couldn't. Every creak on the stairs made him dive under the bed sheets, every breeze outside the window. After about half an hour, he decided he would have to get up and make himself a hot drink.

In the kitchen, Jerome clicked the catch on his kettle and went to sit down in the living room. He lifted the remote from the table and turned the television on. Then, he went back to make his tea. Upon returning to his seat, Jerome noticed that it was actually quite light outside for this time of night. Then he noticed that it was actually quite… early. In fact, it was 7:15 AM.

"Hello, and welcome to Trosking Broadcast Television News." Jerome spat his tea clean across the room. What did she just say? It was 10 at night, he was sure it was. He'd only been in bed for half an hour. Now what was going on? Well, he was about to find out.

Picking up the remote once again, Jerome changed the channel quickly. He was in no mood to listen to the news this morning. On the next channel was a documentary. Jerome was a fan of documentaries, so he sat and watched for a short while. The presenter had a deep, rich voice, but spoke steadily, and with constant hesitation.

"But who is this figure? Where does he come from, and what does he want from us?" The presenter inquired. Oh, no. Not again. Jerome flipped the channel a second time. And then a third. On the screen now, it said 'Please stand by'. But it said it on every channel. He flicked through channel after channel as quickly as he could, and on _every single_ channel, 'Please stand by'. As he flicked on, an image slowly began to form behind the text. In blood red, a faint oval began to emerge, behind which two diagonal lines. The same circle with a cross he'd seen before. Jerome gasped, and lifted up his cup of tea. To his surprise, it was completely empty.

Heading to the kitchen once again, Jerome dropped his mug on the floor when he looked out of the window. It was dark again. He looked at the clock. 10 PM. Had he really just imagined the last few minutes of his life? Had he actually only been in bed for half an hour, and he was only just making his tea? Suddenly, he began to feel nauseas. He scrambled around on the table frantically for his tablets. His hand was barely an inch away from them when it fell limp. He couldn't move it at all. He tried with his other arm, to the same effect. He tried to shout for help, but his throat was too swollen. A deafening ringing filled his ears, accompanied by a voice, yelling this time: "YOU ARE NEVER ALONE. HE IS _ALWAYS_ WATCHING." The TV now had an enormous red circle with a cross on it, and the writing had changed. Instead of 'Please stand by', it now read 'You will DIE'. It was then that Jerome once again collapsed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When Jerome next awoke, the time was 8:20. After a few minutes, it was 8:23, so he figured that he wasn't imagining stuff again. Climbing off the floor for the third time in as many days, Jerome decided to call in sick to work. He needed more time to figure out what was going on.

After calling in and speaking with the chief, Jerome called someone else. Someone who really could help him figure out what was going on. His name was David Altonson. He was a kind of psychiatrist-slash-doctor, of whom Jerome had been a client for years. He was the one who'd given Jerome tablets to take, for his… condition.

About an hour later, David arrived at Jerome's door. Jerome answered, then made himself and David a coffee. Sitting down in the living room, Jerome began to explain what had been happening to him recently.

"Well David," he began. "It's like this. You know I've been investigating the Stoker disappearances recently? Well, we found this note in the house. I shouldn't really tell you what it says, it's top secret you understand. But it described this… thing. It must have been following Alan when he disappeared."

"A thing?" David asked. "What was this 'thing'?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Jerome replied, "But it's this sort of tall, faceless man. James talked about it in his statement. Alan wrote in his death note that he heard a constant ringing, and this man yelling in his ears. I've seen that man. I've heard that sound. David, I need you to help me." David appeared puzzled, not quite sure what Jerome meant.

"So, let me get this straight." David said. "You saw a faceless guy?"

"That's right." Jerome said. "You look like you could use another coffee."

Another mug of coffee later, David and Jerome were still discussing what had been happening to Jerome in the last few days. Jerome had showed David the photo album, with all of the circles still freshly drawn.

"I don't remember drawing these." Jerome explained. "But I passed out, and when I came around, there they were." David considered the possible reasons for Jerome not remembering drawing the circles, but none of them made sense. Jerome also explained how he'd been in the woods last night and suddenly ended up by the River Malder. David could draw no conclusions for this, either.

"Look, Jerome." David assured him. "I think the Stoker case has tilted your head a little. Just keep taking your tablets and you should be fine. Although, I would recommend perhaps taking them regularly, rather than whenever you have an attack." With that, David left. Jerome was alone in the house.

But Jerome wasn't satisfied with David's suggestions. He knew there was something missing. He had to do some more research. He sat down at his computer, an enormous old tower with a box monitor, and opened up his internet browser. He typed into his search engine, 'faceless man', but to no avail. He could not find a thing. He tried 'tall man in suit', 'bald man in suit' and 'tall bald man in suit', but still found nothing. Finally, he tried 'tall bald man _sickness_', and the results flooded in. There were countless people saying that they'd seen this man, that he was causing them headaches and ringing sounds in the ears. It all made sense. But the figure still could not be put to a name.

After scrolling through page after page of 'tall bald man sickness', Jerome found an article by Zephyr Inc. They were the company who'd started a new science division with Ashbridge Co in the last few days. The article was about the nature of fear and what causes people to fear things. But what was most intriguing was the part of the article that talked about what people where scared _by_. There were some obvious ones; heights, the dark, spiders. Then there was the phrase 'paranormal entities'. The article listed ghosts and zombies, and a figure known as 'The Slenderman'. There was a hyperlink in the word, and Jerome clicked it. A picture filled the screen. The image of a tall, bald man in a sharp, black suit appeared on the screen. It all fell into place. This was the man Jerome had seen. This 'Slenderman'. But who was he? Why had he targeted Jerome? Had he really killed Alan Stoker?

Jerome pondered these questions over a cup of tea. Whatever was going on, Jerome was worried, and he needed a drink to calm his nerves. It just didn't make sense. Jerome filled his cup with freshly boiled water, and reached for the teabags. He missed them, and when he glanced up, the teabags weren't there. In fact, the entire kitchen was no longer there. Jerome knew what was going to happen next. And he was right. He looked around to find that he was once again standing on the bank of the River Malder. He noticed something this time, though. There was a child by the water. He'd seen this child before. He'd _been_ this child before. It was him.

Jerome was hesitant to walk towards the child, but eventually he did. He called out to him, but the boy did not seem to here. Then he heard another voice. The voice of his mother. She was calling out to his younger self. He stood up and walked out of sight behind some trees. The river bank was silent once again. Jerome peered over at the other side of the river. On the other bank stood another young child. The child was playing in the verdant grass by the river. From behind him, someone else appeared. Guess who?

Jerome tried to shout to the child. He yelled "Hey, kid!" a few times, but the boy was completely unaware of his presence. The man behind the child walked closer, and placed an arm on the boy's shoulder. Jerome noticed for the first time that this 'Slenderman' had arms almost the entire length of his body. They dropped below his knees, they were so long. Jerome watched on as the boy on the bank turned around to see the faceless owner of the arm. He stood up and yelled one more time, but it was too late. The boy, and the man, had completely disappeared. When Jerome looked around a final time, he was back in the dull light of his kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Jerome had finally decided he'd had enough. He needed real help, and he needed it now. David hadn't been much help, and he wasn't going to find answers on the internet alone. He decided to return to the website of Zephyr Inc. It seemed they were the only ones who knew what they were doing here.

After searching for Zephyr Inc, Jerome was not surprised to find that it was the most visited page on the results list. It was a very popular scientific innovation company, after all. Clicking on the link, Jerome was taken to the website itself, and with a little rooting around, he found a telephone number. I hardly need to tell you, though, that he then proceeded to dial the number immediately.

Jerome whipped out his mobile and dialed in the 11-digit number. The dial tone rang out for a few seconds before somebody picked up.

"Good morning, I'm Helen and you've reached Zephyr Inc. How may I help you today?"

"Hi," Jerome began, "Uh, my name is Jerome Yales. I've had a bit of a problem recently. Well, for quite a while now, actually."

"Ok, Mister Yales. And what exactly is the nature of your… problem?" Helen replied. Then, Jerome began to explain how he'd recently read an internet article on the 'Slenderman'. He told her that he'd read it to find out more about this mysterious figure because… He was following him.

After Jerome had poured out his worries into his telephone, Helen was stunned and silent for a few moments, not sure how to respond to this new information. Then, she replied: "Um… Well… Should I put you through to 'Complaints'?"

"Complaints?" Jerome asked. "No, I don't want to complain, I want help."

"Right, help." Helen repeated. "Will 'Support and Assistance' do?"

"Not really…" Jerome replied through clenched teeth. This woman clearly had no idea what she was doing. "Look, can you just put me through to someone higher up who knows something about this so-called 'Slenderman' that I keep seeing?" His voice slowly rose until he practically shouted the last word. Then, there was silence on the line.

For a few moments, Jerome was unsure whether to put the phone down, or wait for a reply. Just as he was about to cancel the call, he heard another voice on the line. This was not Helen, though. It was a much older-sounding gentleman.

"Hello, Mr. Yales?" He inquired.

"Yes, that's me." Jerome assured the man.

"My name's Matthew Strulmann." The man introduced himself. "Helen tells me you've rang about a certain 'Slenderman'?"

"Yes, that's me, thank you!" Jerome sighed in relief. Finally, someone was listening to him.

"Well, Mr. Yales," Strulmann replied, "We'd like you to come in for an interview as soon as possible." Of course, Jerome immediately agreed, and after the arrangements had been made, Strulmann bid him goodbye.

About an hour later, Jerome was tucking in to his dinner. He was satisfied that he would finally be able to figure out what was going on in his life right now. As he dug his knife into a slice of steak and kidney pie, he sat back in his chair and relaxed. For a brief moment, he felt that everything was going to be fine. He soon snapped out of that, though.

After finishing his pie, Jerome remembered to take one of his tablets, as David had recommended. Then, he sat back down and turned on the TV. He watched for a good few hours, despite the fact that he needed some fresh air. But he daren't leave the house. He knew what would happen if he did. Eventually, though, his boredom got the better of him. He decided to go out for a walk. He'd soon realise that this was a mistake.

A while later, Jerome was walking along in the foothills bordering the town. It was his favourite spot to get peace and quiet from the hustle and bustle of the town. But today, subconsciously, Jerome knew that he'd come here for a completely different reason. Yes, he needed fresh air. Yes, he needed to relieve his boredom. But there was another reason, in the back of his mind, that he had come here. As he reached the steeper slopes, he went into a small valley between two hills. Sure enough, it wasn't long before Jerome had arrived at his destination. The River Malder.

Hesitating before he approached, Jerome went to the surface of the cool, clear water. He looked around, and was certain that this was the exact spot that he'd visited so many times before. The same spot that he'd been taken to by that creature in the woods. He continued to search, for any signs of… well, anything. It wasn't long before he found it.

On the ground beneath a small tree, Jerome noticed something etched into the dirt. He approached it, and crouched down to observe the drawing. As soon as he lay his eyes upon it, his blood ran cold. It was a circle with a cross through the centre. Jerome stood back up, and pulled out another tablet. The bottle said "Take once per hour." After swallowing the grey-ish object, he pulled out his mobile to photograph the sketch on the ground. He needed proof that it existed, that he wasn't just seeing things. However, when he turned on his camera, he found that it would show no picture. As he pointed it around the clearing, his phone screen was filled with interference.

This was beyond a joke. Everywhere Jerome pointed his mobile, the image was purely static. Not only was the image affected, but the sound of static rang out from his phone, as well. It buzzed and fizzed as interference continued to rule the screen. Suddenly, the surface of the phone became incredibly hot. Jerome dropped the device as he felt it burning his hands. The phone crackled and rang with static. Then, it was dead. Jerome was just about to go pick it back up, when it happened. Sure enough, just as he'd expected, he saw somebody at the other side of the river. A tall man, black suit, spindly arms and legs. And I'm assuming that you don't need to be told at this point who it was.


End file.
